


Fool House

by screamingsongbird16



Category: Joker Game (Anime)
Genre: Deception, Gen, Joker Game Showdown, Poker, Spies taking sides
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-01 08:51:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10918464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamingsongbird16/pseuds/screamingsongbird16
Summary: It's a question for the ages.  Who is really the best at Joker Game: Miyoshi or Fukumoto?





	1. Kaminaga

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tivanny](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Tivanny).



Notes: Sorry for the long and unannounced hiatus.  I’m not dead and none of my fics have been discontinued.  There’s just been a lot going on in my life lately, and now that some of it’s finally settling down, I’m easing myself back into writing with this new fic, while I review my old ones before I pick them back up.  My goal is to finish this new fic in two weeks, and be back to updating my older fics by the first week of next month. 

 

But without further ado, please enjoy my take on how a Joker Game showdown between Miyoshi (Yuuki’s golden boy) and Fukumoto (D-Agency’s best gambler) would go down, with all our boys taking sides and adding their two cents. :)

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Kaminaga

 

            In the end, everyone agreed it was Kaminaga’s fault.  He was the one who went and opened his big mouth.  In his defense, it wasn’t like it came out of nowhere or anything.  They had all, at some point or another, wondered who was _really_ the best at Joker Game: Miyoshi with his mastery of manipulation or Fukumoto with his insane luck and ability to read the cards.

            “Isn’t it obvious?” asked Jitsui. 

            “Miyoshi,” said Amari, at the exact same time Tazaki answered with “Fukumoto.”

            They stared at one another, mild expressions of discontent crossing both their faces. 

            “Miyoshi wins more than anyone else,” Amari said.

            “Fukumoto sits out and signs more than anyone else.  When he plays, he usually wins.  Even if Miyoshi’s playing,” said Tazaki.

            “I think Miyoshi would win –” Sakuma started to say.

            “Only because you can’t think,” Hatano cut him off.

            “Oh?  Your money would be on Fukumoto?” asked Jitsui.

            Hatano smirked.  “I didn’t say that.”

            “Fukumoto controls the food in the house,” Tazaki said, still frowning at Amari.

            “Miyoshi controls everything else,” said Amari.

            “Or so he would have you believe,” stated Odagiri.

            “Gentlemen,” said Kaminaga.  “I think we need to make this an official contest.”

            “And how, pray tell, does one make an official Joker Game contest?” asked Miyoshi, speaking for the first time since the subject was broached.  “You almost make it sound like there would be rules.”

            “Only the usual Joker Game rules,” Kaminaga assured him.

            “So cheat as much as possible without making it obvious,” said Hatano dryly.

            “Exactly.”

            “Tazaki can’t be the dealer,” said Sakuma, frowning deeply.  “He’s clearly biased and will probably be wagering on this.”

            Tazaki smiled amiably at their resident soldier.  “Why Lieutenant.  It almost sounds as though you think I’m untrustworthy.”

            “Everyone here is going to be wagering on this,” said Amari, his gaze sharpening a bit when he turned it on Sakuma. 

            “Well, I think we do need at least one semi-neutral party, or at least someone pretending to be one,” said Hatano. 

            “Not you,” said Fukumoto, frowning at their youngest.  “You’ve never been neutral about anything in your life.”

            “Well, I sure as hell wasn’t volunteering myself,” said Hatano.  “Just stating a fact.  If we don’t have someone who’s at least pretending to be an unbiased party as dealer, we’re all going to have to listen to the Lieutenant bitching when Fukumoto mops the floor with Miyoshi.”

            “So your money is on Fukumoto,” said Jitsui.

            “Tazaki made a very good point about the food.”

            “Is anyone going to have a problem with me being dealer?” asked Kaminaga.  “I’ll do my best to be neutral in this, as penance for opening this can of worms in the first place.”

            The spies all traded glances, searching each others’ expressions for signs of discontent.

            “I think you’ve got the job,” said Tazaki.  “Try not to screw it up.”

            That got chuckles all around.  Kaminaga smiled and made a point not to look in Miyoshi’s direction, lest a bit of slyness creep into his smile.  He’d worked with Tazaki long enough, that he was confident he could deal from the bottom of the deck without the others seeing.  He could give Miyoshi a few rotten cards for critical hands and no one would be the wiser.

 

(Kaminaga – Team Fukumoto)

 

* * *

 

 

Notes: This fic is a return gift for Tivanny, who requested a Joker Game showdown between Miyoshi, who is quite possibly the best all-around spy, and Fukumoto, who specializes in gambling. 

 

Each chapter’s going to focus on a different spy, and who he’s backing, and his motives and/or reasoning.  Though not everything is going to be revealed in as many words.  But part of the fun of Joker Game is trying to figure out what’s going on beneath the surface. :)

 

Next up: Jitsui


	2. Jitsui

            It was going to be a close competition.  Any intelligent person could see that from the onset.  Miyoshi and Fukumoto were both master poker players, and even better at playing people than cards.  Skill alone couldn’t guarantee them victory. 

            Jitsui wanted to be on the winning side.

            Hatano was being his usual cheeky self about whose side he was taking, playing the devil’s advocate and constantly making them all second guess who he was backing.  Not that Jitsui would have necessarily gone the same way as him if he knew who Hatano was planning to back, but he couldn’t deny it was a possibility.  Things worked out best for him when he and Hatano were on the same page.  But he couldn’t deny that Hatano’s wild, unpredictable streak and unbridled personality were traits he loved in him.

            If Jitsui had to guess, he would say Hatano would be backing Fukumoto.  But he didn’t know this for sure.  It would be just like Hatano to say he was doing one thing, then do the exact opposite, just for kicks.  But on the other hand, Hatano was the kind of person who liked to see the mighty fall, and Miyoshi was nothing if not the golden boy of D-Agency.

            In the end, that was what made Jitsui decide to back Miyoshi in the upcoming contest.  Miyoshi seemed like the surer thing.  Luck was a fickle friend, and Jitsui refused to lose face by backing someone whose strategies seemed to incorporate it so much.  In addition, Jitsui wasn’t overly concerned about food quality dropping if Fukumoto was displeased with them.  All it would take was Jitsui threatening to cook, or maybe making good on his threat one time, and Fukumoto would snap right back to cooking like he always did, making mouthwatering dishes that put professional chefs to shame.  And if by chance it took a little longer . . . well, Hatano could give Fukumoto a run for his money in the kitchen since coming home from France.  The only thing was, Hatano didn’t like cooking for big groups, but that was fine.  He could just cook for himself and Jitsui. 

             It wasn’t that Jitsui didn’t like Fukumoto.  Or that he favored Miyoshi.  Him choosing to back Miyoshi was nothing personal.  True, Jitsui did believe that he would help tip the scales for whichever one of them he chose.  But all things considered, he believed Miyoshi had the better chance.  It was just easier to go with the one who he thought had the best odds.

            According to the ground rules they’d laid down, both Fukumoto and Miyoshi had one week to win as many of the other spies over to their side as they could.  But neither wasted any time in trying to win their colleagues over.

            Later that very night, Fukumoto asked Jitsui if there was anything special he’d like for dinner next week.  Jitsui deferred, saying he was fine with anything.  But when Miyoshi offered him a single cigarette, Jitsui took the whole pack.

 

 

(Jitsui – Team Miyoshi)

* * *

 

Notes: I forgot to mention this last chapter, but this fic is aLIvE-verse compliant, and is set after Episode 4: City of Temptation.  So, after Fukumoto got home from Shanghai.  Where he had plenty of practice gambling and manipulating the crap out of people.  And long enough after aLIvE that no one’s giving Miyoshi any special treatment.

 

I’m going to be busy the next few days, so next chapter will most likely be posted over the weekend.  But next up is Odagiri.


	3. Odagiri

            For Odagiri there was no choice.  Fukumoto was his best friend.  Though Odagiri didn’t always back him in Joker Game, because the very nature of that game made switching things up necessary in order to keep it lively and fun, when it came down to anything serious, Odagiri would be behind Fukumoto all the way.

            What’s more, Fukumoto knew that.  Which saved him from having to waste time confirming it, when there were others to win over to his cause.  But the other side of that blade was that everyone else knew it too.

            Miyoshi knew better than to bother wasting time on him.  Amari withdrew a bit from him, not coldly, but just putting a bit of distance between them, as though to fortify himself.  Drawing the lines, so to speak.  Odagiri couldn’t say he liked this.  It wasn’t like there was any real rivalry, or like there’d be any hard feelings next week when this was all over, but that didn’t mean Odagiri had to be a fan of the tension this was causing.

            Oh, it wasn’t serious, and if a threat arose, or Yuuki-san, oblivious to their little game, sent two of them from opposing sides on a mission, it would immediately be put aside, and wouldn’t affect their ability to work together at all.  But unless something like that happened, that tension still existed, and honestly, Odagiri would prefer it didn’t.  They challenged and snarked with each other enough during normal times.

            He would be glad when this was over.  Even though it was amusing in its own right, seeing Amari and Jitsui having to deal with Sakuma.  Always before, he’d been mostly left to Miyoshi, who actually wanted that task, but since they were splitting up on two sides, Sakuma was getting corralled in with them, and it was amusing watching them have to deal with him. 

            For his own part, Odagiri got a bit closer to Tazaki, the only other one to openly side with Fukumoto.  No one knew what Hatano was planning, and Kaminaga was neutral . . . or so he said.  Odagiri, and most of the rest of them thought they’d have to wait until the showdown actually began before finding out whose side he was really taking, though a certain other military man still believed Kaminaga was genuinely trying to be neutral in this.

            But it was to Odagiri that Kaminaga tipped his hand, and right under Jitsui and Amari’s noses as well.  Kaminaga was not to be left alone, was an opinion shared by both Miyoshi and Fukumoto.  Neither wanted him confirming his allegiance to the other side.  But more than that, neither wanted him confirming to the other side and them not catching it.  Which made Kaminaga suddenly extremely popular, with hardly a moment to himself. 

            “Here comes two of the house of the Montagues,” Kaminaga remarked to Odagiri, with a wink, when the two who were openly siding with Miyoshi entered the library, after what had probably been a frantic search after Kaminaga must have given them and Tazaki the slip.  Interesting that he had come to the library when he knew Odagiri was there, doing some research on the list of topics Yuuki had ordered him to brush up on.  Even more interesting was his tone.  And his choice of words.

            Odagiri was hardly an expert in British literature, but Shakespeare had been required reading in D-Agency’s curriculum.  One of their teachers required them to hastily memorize whole scenes, then selected trainees at random to play various roles, sometimes going so far as to make them switch roles in the middle of a scene.  Kaminaga, Odagiri had suspected and later confirmed, had an unfair advantage in those lessons.  He’d already committed all of Shakespeare’s plays to memory, and could even recite the lines backwards when prompted.

            That particular line, Odagiri knew, was from Romeo and Juliet.  But he only learned the significance of it when he looked it up, to see what lines came before and after it.

            “Quarrel.  I will back thee.”

            And that was as sure a sign as they were likely to get.  Odagiri informed Fukumoto about their ace in the hole at his earliest possible convenience.  Then continued to stick to Kaminaga like glue.  After all, they couldn’t have Miyoshi’s side knowing that what they’d been watching for had already come to pass.  Keeping up the deception was just part of the game.

 

(Odagiri – Team Fukumoto)


	4. Amari

            Miyoshi was the logical choice.  Every man of D-Agency was extraordinary, but even amongst his peers in D-Agency, Miyoshi shined.  It was no secret that he was the one most of them predicted would take over D-Agency after Yuuki stepped down.  True, Fukumoto could give anyone a run for their money in both poker and Joker Game, but Amari still believed Miyoshi had more of an edge.  He was brilliant to the point where a number of them couldn’t help but be a little jealous.  Amari could understand wanting to take him down a peg or two.  But the point of the contest was to see who was the best at Joker Game, not just to make the one they want to win be the winner.  He and Tazaki ended up having a rather interesting discussion on that point . . . but that was another story.

            Amari had made it clear who he was supporting going into the competition.  While it was common, even expected, that some of them would change sides, or would be deceiving everyone from the start, doing so wasn’t Amari’s intention.  He genuinely believed Miyoshi was the better Joker Game player and deserved the win over Fukumoto.  But then Fukumoto decided to play dirty.

            In hindsight, Amari guessed he shouldn’t have been surprised.  He did have what the other spies had categorized as a critical weakness.  Not that they didn’t have the same damn weakness, those bloody hypocrites.  But yeah, Amari _was_ the one who’d brought Emma back to D-Agency.  Despite everyone else chipping in, he was her primary caregiver.  The first one she came to when she needed someone.  He did his best to treat her as a daughter.  Perhaps he thought that since everyone else loved her so much too, that they would leave her out of this little conflict.

            He should have known that nothing was sacred in D-Agency.  Nothing.

            “Papa?” Emma came to him asking one day, not long after the gauntlet had been thrown down, but still three nights before the actual showdown.

            Amari knelt down so he was at eye level with his adoptive daughter, and smiled.  It never failed to send a pang through his chest, hearing her call him that.  “Yes, Emma-chan?”

            “You love me right?” Emma asked.  “Because you’re my new papa?”

            Amari’s smile grew a little sad, but he hoped she wouldn’t pick up on that.  “You have the order a little bit wrong, pumpkin.  I love you.  Which is why I’m your new papa.”

            Emma puzzled over the wording for a few moments, then brightened as she seemed to understand.  “So you love me.”

            “Yes,” Amari said, patting her on the top of the head.  “I love you.”

            “Then will you do something for me?”

            That should have set off warning bells.  Amari would berate himself for it later.  He was a spy.  He should have known by gut instinct when he was being set up, or led into a trap, or manipulated.  But all he saw was his little girl’s brilliant smile, and at that moment he would do anything to keep it on her face.

            “Of course,” said Amari.  Stupidly.  “Anything.”

            “Tazaki says that Fukumoto says that if I get you to do them a favor, Fukumoto will make odango with me!” Emma said, her entire face brightening impossibly even more at the prospect of odango.

            Amari’s smile froze on his face.  He wanted to close his eyes and grimace at the realization he’d just been had. 

            Tazaki, he thought.  Fukumoto.  This is a low blow.  Getting to me through my little girl . . .

            He could imagine their smirks even now.  Fukumoto’s light, almost subdued, so much that you wouldn’t even realize he was smirking unless you knew the reason he had to smirk.  And Tazaki’s smirk, devilish and handsome, and pure evil.  Tazaki could give even Miyoshi a run for his money when it came to smirking beautifully, and Amari just knew that was the look he’d get when next he saw his treacherous friend.

            “So will you, Papa?” asked Emma.  “Will you do Tazaki and Fukumoto their favor?  So Fukumoto will make odango with me?  Please?’

            Odango was one of the few Japanese foods Emma liked.  Despite all her charms, Emma was a picky eater.  She much preferred Western cuisine, and at first, Amari had made the mistake of letting Hatano indulge her with the culinary skills he’d picked up in France.  That had ended up leading to problems, and tantrums when Hatano wasn’t around to cook, and Yuuki had finally stepped in to say she would eat what the rest of them were eating, or not at all.  Fukumoto wouldn’t come straight out and say that his feelings had been hurt, by their little girl not liking his cooking, but it wasn’t exactly a secret.  He’d started making odango for her on a weekly basis, after learning how much she liked it.  Then Yuuki had stepped in and put a stop to that too, sternly ordering Fukumoto to leave festival foods for special occasions.

            Amari couldn’t even go to Yuuki to try to appeal this now, even if he wanted to.  He had the feeling that Yuuki would fully approve of Fukumoto breaking out his odango making skills for this occasion.  And then he’d have to deal with Yuuki’s veiled smirk too. 

            So Amari forced himself to keep on smiling, and answered his daughter.  “Of course I will, Emma-chan.  Of course.”

 

 

(Amari – ~~Team Miyoshi~~ Team Fukumoto)

(Emma – Team Fukumoto)


	5. Tazaki

 

            “It’s not just about who’s your favorite,” Amari tried to convince Tazaki.  “It’s about who’s better at the game.”

            “Which is exactly why it is about who’s your favorite,” said Tazaki.  “Because part of the game is about making other people like you best.  At least for the amount of time it takes you to win.”

            There were conflicting views about the nature of Joker Game, even though its players, creators, and everyone who knew about it numbered less than a dozen men. 

            “But this is a contest about who’s best, in terms of skills –”

            “And winning people over is definitely a skill,” insisted Tazaki.

            Amari frowned and looked quite disgruntled.  “It’s not the same thing as being the best without that though.  Miyoshi excels in all areas of spycraft, as well as in poker.”

            “Which isn’t enough to be the Joker Game champion,” said Tazaki.  “It’s not just about having the best skills.  It’s about how you use them.  If I’ve learned nothing else in D-Agency, I’ve learned that.”  He remembered their fencing sessions with painful clarity.

            “You’re not still sore that we all kicked your butt at your own game?  No, wait, you are.  That’s why you want to see Miyoshi lose to Fukumoto?” Amari asked.

            “Make no mistake, I’m not holding grudges for that,” said Tazaki.  “It was a lesson I needed to learn.”

            Amari smiled, like this was a lead in he’d been waiting for.  “There’s a few other lessons you have left to learn, my friend.”

            Coincidentally (or not) this was exactly what Tazaki had been waiting for.  “Oh no, here it comes,” said Tazaki.  “You trying to exact payback on me for using Emma against you.”

            “Which was low,” said Amari, looking annoyed.  “She’s a child.  You shouldn’t be using her as leverage.”

            “All is fair in love, war, and Joker Game.”

            “And turnabout is fairplay,” said Amari, his eyes glinting wickedly.  “Or have you forgotten your own critical weakness?  Your little feathered friends, that taste so delicious when roasted up nice with lemons and butter?”

            “You wouldn’t,” said Tazaki.

            “Wouldn’t I?”

            “No, I mean, you really wouldn’t.  And this is why.”  Tazaki smirked as he reached into his suit pocket and pulled out the pages they’d torn from a cookbook Fukumoto had brought back from Shanghai.  The pages were written in Chinese, but the language barrier wasn’t a problem for anyone in D-Agency.  Amari took the pages, and a single glance was enough to make his go wide with horror.

            “You wouldn’t,” Amari said, unintentionally echoing Tazaki’s earlier words.

            “I wouldn’t.  Fukumoto would.  He’s the one who saw your move coming – trying to flip me against him, by threatening my pigeons.  He’s the one who thought up this particularly brilliant countermove.  Which is just another reason why he deserves to win.”

            Amari shook his head in disgust.  He wasn’t really mad, Tazaki knew.  Just very miffed, both at the threat and at being thwarted so thoroughly.  “Really.  Nothing is sacred here in D-Agency.  Nothing!”

            “Says the man who threatened to cook my pets.  But as you said, turnabout is fairplay.”

            “Don’t you dare let Emma see that,” Amari warned.

            “Why?  Does she read Chinese?”

            “With everything everyone here is teaching her, I wouldn’t be surprised,” said Amari.  “She is never to know of this.  If you dare breathe a word about this to her –”

            “It will only be after I’ve made good on this threat,” said Tazaki.  “So keep your hands off my pigeons.”

            Amari slapped the pages against Tazaki’s chest, then stalked away murmuring curses under his breath.  Tazaki smirked, watching him go, then smoothed out the pages, neatly folded them, and put the recipe for grilled dog with five-spice pineapple sauce back in his breast pocket.

 

 

(Tazaki – Team Fukumoto)

 


	6. Sakuma

            Sakuma had always thought he was good at poker.  At least before coming to D-Agency.  But even when they weren’t playing Joker Game, the men of D-Agency were in a league all their own.  It took all of Sakuma’s concentration and skill every single hand to keep from losing his whole paycheck to those damn card sharks.  And he still had suspicions that they were cheating, but he never had any grounds to legitimately challenge them.

            But that aside, the fact that Sakuma ever managed to stay afloat while playing with the spies meant that he was, by anyone else’s standards, really damn good.  He was even sure that playing with those bastards had made him even better.  And he’d even started being able to grasp the fundamentals of Joker Game, even if he was the worst player in the house.  So, Sakuma knew when things were stacking up against him.  Them.  Him, Miyoshi, Amari, and Jitsui.  What some people might call instinct, Sakuma had learned was really the mind subconsciously sorting various subtle clues and putting them together.  So when Sakuma started feeling like things weren’t falling their way, he went to Miyoshi, to see if his suspicions were correct.

            “It’s true,” admitted Miyoshi.  “We’ll be going into the showdown outnumbered.  Kaminaga is most likely siding with Fukumoto.  And Amari has definitely turned traitor.”

            “That’s bad,” said Sakuma.  “Really bad.  That means Fukumoto’s got four supporters to your two.  And who knows what Hatano’s going to do.”

            “This isn’t as bad as it first appears,” said Miyoshi.  “And I have a pretty good idea about what Hatano’s going to do.  Or at least I will, once he starts making moves.  I know how he thinks.”

            “You say that like it’s a good thing,” Sakuma said dryly, earning a dry laugh from Miyoshi.  “And can you explain to me why this isn’t as bad as it first appears?”

            Trying to match wits with the spies had always been futile.  Trying to keep up with them, a lost cause.  Pretending he was on the same page with them, more often than not, ended with Sakuma looking foolish, and getting caught up by his ignorance, often after being called out, because really, he wasn’t fooling anyone.  But he’d found that when he asked for explanations, most of the time, the spies were willing to explain, or sometimes guide Sakuma through the thought process needed to come to the conclusions they had.  Whenever they took the time to do that, Sakuma came away feeling smarter, like he’d learned something . . . even though he knew it was a skill that all the spies had come into training with, and so having his hand held through it wasn’t really something he should feel proud of.

            “Five people will be at the table,” said Miyoshi.  “Me and Fukumoto, obviously.  And Kaminaga, as the dealer.  By our rules, even if Kaminaga runs out of chips, he’ll remain the dealer.  If he doesn’t, it makes no difference, since Fukumoto and I are the ones playing until one of us goes out.  Whichever one is left is the winner, even if Kaminaga were to have the most chips at the match’s end.”

            “Okay,” said Sakuma, to show he was listening.  And because so far he understood.

            “Kaminaga will be cheating, make no mistake.  His sleight of hand has improved since the lull began.”

            The lull.  That’s what they referred to their current state of being as.  With most of them in residence at D-Agency at any given time, and none of them in deep cover.  The war made placing them in new positions difficult, since everyone was on the lookout for spies now.  Rather than throw away his assets on missions doomed to fail, Lt. Colonel Yuuki was keeping his spies close instead, and focusing on counter-espionage despite criticism from their higher ups.  Muto in particular, had become very outspoken against that decision lately.  Sakuma knew the man had never forgiven Yuuki for the Gordon incident.  Or for blackmailing Muto into canceling Sakuma’s deployment to the front, to keep him as D-Agency’s liaison.  Sakuma worried that they would have more trouble from him soon.  But when it came, Sakuma doubted he would be the one who could thwart it.

            “So, Kaminaga’s been working with Tazaki?” asked Sakuma.  Tazaki, he had known for awhile, was their sleight of hand specialist.

            “Yes.  So he’ll be favoring Fukumoto, and his collaborators, with choice cards, and sending bad cards to my side, whenever he can manage it.  Thankfully, he is nowhere near Tazaki’s level, or this contest would be over before it started.  But more than that, Kaminaga will still be holding back.”

            “Holding back?”

            “Yes,” said Miyoshi.  “He sided against me to challenge me.  Just like I would for him.”

            “Er – why?” Sakuma asked.

            “Because one of us is expected to succeed Lt. Colonel Yuuki.  It’s the job of whoever does so, to be the very best.  Kaminaga and I are both well aware that we improve much more rapidly when we’re pitted against one another, than when we side together.  We owe our peers nothing less,” explained Miyoshi.

            “Oh.  I see.  Um, so . . . so Kaminaga will be helping Fukumoto’s side, but not as much as he could, right?  He’ll be giving you a fighting chance.  And the two other people at the table?”

            “Jitsui and Odagiri,” said Miyoshi.  “Fukumoto and I both chose subordinates at the table who we knew wouldn’t easily be turned against us.  Odagiri would rather deal with a multitude of hardships before betraying Fukumoto, and Jitsui’s revenge against anyone trying to blackmail him would far outweigh any potential gains, for anyone except Hatano.”

            Sakuma had learned not to take the petit, angel-faced spy lightly, and so he nodded calmly, trying hard not to shudder.  “Jitsui seems to have a soft spot for Hatano,” he said instead.

            Miyoshi looked at him then, and Sakuma knew he was missing something, because the look Miyoshi was giving him was so exasperated and disbelieving.

            “Doesn’t he?” asked Sakuma uncertainly.  He’d been sure . . . he thought Jitsui and Hatano were best friends.  They were always together, and smiling at each other, and when one of them was threatened or in trouble, the other became practically murderous.  They even shared a bed, because Jitsui shivered in his sleep, and Hatano cared more about keeping his friend warm than what anyone might think about how it looked, two grown men sharing a bed like that.

            “Yes,” said Miyoshi.  “Jitsui does have a soft spot for Hatano.  Let’s leave it at that for now.”

            “What am I missing?” asked Sakuma.

            Miyoshi gave him that look again.

            “Are . . . are they actually related?” asked Sakuma.  They were both so tiny, so maybe –

            “Let’s move on,” said Miyoshi in a tone that booked no argument.  “So, Odagiri and Jitsui will be playing at the table with Fukumoto, Kaminaga, and I.  But rather than playing to win, they’ll be playing not to lose, except to the one who they’re supporting.  That’s a new element to the game, you’re not familiar with, I believe.  Normally, it’s every player at the table for himself, with the possible exception of the dealer.  This time, Jitsui will be aiming to take as many chips from Fukumoto, Kaminaga, and Odagiri as possible, and let me win them from him, without making it too obvious, while Odagiri and Kaminaga do the same, except taking from Jitsui and I, and losing them to Fukumoto.  Understand?”

            “Yes,” said Sakuma.  At least this was comprehensible.

            “That leaves you, Tazaki, Amari, and Hatano to sign.  But, in keeping with the façade that they’re not helping anyone cheat, they, and you, will remain at whatever location, or engaged in whatever task they’re at, when they begin the game.”

            Sakuma nodded.  That was nothing new.  One of the unspoken rules was that you couldn’t be too blatant in your cheating.  A signaler couldn’t repeatedly walk around the table, looking at everyone’s cards, then let their chosen conspirator know if they should play or fold.  They had to keep up the act that they were just casually observing, or reading, or doing dishes.  If you circled the table, it had to be for a legitimate reason, like taking someone a drink, or retrieving something.  And you could only walk around the table so many times before you looked like an idiot and got called out.  So, people more or less stayed where they were at when the match started, only moving around now and then, and rarely changing seats more than once per game.  And signals were subtle, and usually simple.  When playing before, Sakuma always tried to get in a position where he could see two people’s hands, and then signaled his co-conspirator only about who had the higher hand, rather than try to let them know what both players had.  Signals had to constantly be switched up, to keep the others from interpreting them.  Odagiri was particularly adept at breaking their codes, Sakuma had learned.  That was something they would have to watch out for.  And then there was the added complication of it being okay if Jitsui won against some people.  But Sakuma would leave it to Miyoshi to come up with the signals, and their plan of attack.  Sakuma was happy to let him strategize it out, and just follow orders.

            “Amari will probably be looking at Jitsui’s cards,” said Miyoshi.  “He doesn’t really want to be on Fukumoto’s side, but since he’s allowed himself to be manipulated over there, he’ll remain loyal to me in what small ways remain open to him.  He’ll help them take Jitsui out of the game, then once Jitsui is out, Amari’s role will be done.”

            “Is that also because Fukumoto is only going to trust Amari so far?” asked Sakuma.  “Since he knows Amari doesn’t want to be doing that?”

            Miyoshi smiled brightly.  Very brightly.  Sakuma’s heart inexplicably gave a few fast thumps.

            “Very good, Sakuma-san,” said Miyoshi.  “You always have to be careful with assets you convert against their will.  Someone who betrays one cause will just as easily betray another.  Especially if they resent you for making them switch over.”

            “Thank you,” said Sakuma, after swallowing heavily. 

            “Tazaki will probably be looking at my cards and signaling my hand to Fukumoto.  I want you to sit where you can see both Kaminaga’s and Odagiri’s cards, and signal them to Jitsui.”

            “Not to you?” asked Sakuma, feeling disappointed.  “And not Fukumoto’s cards?”

            “No.  I want to take his allies at the table out first, to keep them from accruing too many chips and sending them Fukumoto’s way first.  And if you try to sit behind Fukumoto, chances are high that you’ll be contending with Hatano.  I’d say the odds of that are seventy percent.”

            “What?  Why?  Is he going to be blocking me from signaling you?  Or signaling you himself?”

            “There’s the third option that he’s just going to sit there to annoy everyone,” said Miyoshi.  “All those possibilities are equally likely.  And Jitsui is far better equipped to deal with him than you.  Because, well, let’s just say Hatano has a soft spot for Jitsui as well.”

            Sakuma glared at him.  “Will you just explain it to me?  I don’t understand what I’m missing.”

            “You can’t depend on us to tell you everything, Sakuma-san,” said Miyoshi loftily.  “But when you figure it out, I’ll let you know you’ve got it right.  And if you want further instruction on that topic, I’ll be happy to provide it.”

 

 

(Sakuma – Team Miyoshi)


	7. Hatano

            “So let me get this straight,” said Hatano.  “You want me to sit behind you, look at your cards, and signal Miyoshi.  Correctly.  The whole way through the game.”

            “Yes,” said Fukumoto. 

            “Every single hand.”

            “Yes.”

            “Even the last hand, which is ultimately going to decide who wins, and who loses.”

            “Yes.”

            “And not, I don’t know, signal him wrong on the last hand, after building up his trust the entire match?”

            “Miyoshi will be expecting that,” said Fukumoto.  “He knows you.  You’re probably the least trustworthy person in the house.”

            Hatano clutched at his chest.  “Fukumoto.  I’m hurt.”

            “It was your idea to betray him, after all.”

            “But you thought about making me betray him,” pointed out Hatano.  “Don’t deny it.  Even if you didn’t say it, you thought it.”

            “Of course I did.  I had to think of every possible move that could be made.  And every possible outcome for each move.”

            “So you’ve considered that Miyoshi might know that I would betray him on the last hand if it was me, but that you ordered me not to, and thus that I would be signaling him correctly, and would follow my signal and win the game.”

            “I have considered that,” Fukumoto agreed.

            “And you still want me to signal him correctly?” asked Hatano.

            “Yes.”

            “And your reasoning?” Hatano wanted to know.

            Fukumoto gave a soft smile.  “All Miyoshi has to do is not trust you.  Then I win.”

            “But you trust me to follow your instructions?  Or you know I won’t?” asked Hatano.

            Fukumoto just smiled.

            Hatano laughed.  “Well.  It should be interesting.  If I do what you tell me to.  Or if I don’t.  Hm, I wonder which will be more interesting?”

            “That right there,” said Fukumoto. “Is why no one trusts you.”

            “You wound me, Fukumoto.”

            “The truth hurts, Hatano.”

 

(Hatano – Team ???)


	8. Yuuki

            Yuuki knew when his boys were up to something.  Like they were now.  It had started slightly after Fukumoto returned from Shanghai, and had been escalating all week.  Fukumoto’s return had brought the in residence spy count up to eight.  Plus Sakuma.  And Emma.  And Yuuki himself.  Half of his spies alone were a recipe for trouble.  All eight made it a certainty.  Yuuki had been expecting some sort of major shenanigans to occur, the moment he learned Fukumoto was on his way back.  Now sides were being taken, tension was mounting, and Fukumoto was threatening to cook Amari’s dog. 

            It was nice to have a full house, Yuuki thought, smiling into his coffee cup as he took a sip, his expression hidden by the opaque glass.  He took a moment to compose his expression, while he enjoyed the coffee’s flavor – Kona, if he knew his coffee, which he did.  He felt like shaking his head.  Hatano must have ordered it specially.  Trying to be sweet to Jitsui, assuming that the flavor would be familiar to him.  Failing to take into account how young Jitsui had been when he lived there, and how unlikely it was that he would have been drinking coffee at that age.  On the one hand, Yuuki was a little disappointed in Hatano, for not thinking things through, and coming to the obvious conclusion.  But on the other, the Kona coffee was really good.  Yuuki decided not to point out his error this time.  Let the boy figure it out on his own.

            “So . . .” said Hatano, spinning a cream covered madeleine around on the plate in front of him.  “You know, don’t you?”

            Yuuki was ninety percent certain Hatano was talking about the impending Joker Game showdown between Miyoshi and Fukumoto.  But even if he’d had no clue what Hatano meant, his answer would have been the same. 

            “Of course I know.”

            His boys respected him more when they thought he knew everything that was going on at D-Agency. 

            “Who do you think’s going to win?” asked Hatano.

            Yuuki snorted.  “They could both stand a lesson in humility.”  And honestly, it was anyone’s game.  Even though Fukumoto had the advantage in numbers, his victory was by no means guaranteed.  Miyoshi was cunning and dangerous by anyone’s standards. 

            “Are you saying you’re going to play again?” asked Hatano, his whole face lighting up, like a child’s on Christmas morning.

            Yuuki didn’t bother hiding his smile in his coffee cup this time, as he remembered the sole time he’d joined in their game, and put them all to shame.  The idea was tempting . . . but no.  This was a contest between Fukumoto and Miyoshi.  There could be no alternate winner. 

            “Do you think I have time for all your shenanigans?” Yuuki asked, as his answer. 

            Hatano gave him the cheekiest look.  Then made his eyes go extremely wide.  “Not even if I say pleeeeeease?”

            “Not even then.”  Yuuki had no idea why he was so tolerant of this brat.

            “Not even if I give you my last madeleine?” Hatano tried again. 

            That was almost enough to give Yuuki pause.  The tiny sponge cakes had come out particularly well, especially considering this was Hatano’s first time making them.  In Japan at least.  Perhaps he’d practiced up on them in France.  And the way Hatano was serving them was particularly delectable, with a spoon full of chocolate whipped cream on top of each one.  Yuuki had already devoured the three on the plate that Hatano had brought up to him.  Obtaining a fourth was tempting.  But Yuuki was no child to be bribed and manipulated with sweets.

            “If you are mistaking me for the tiny red-headed girl Amari brought home, then you clearly need more sleep.  Should I set a curfew for you?” Yuuki asked Hatano, and again had to hide a smile when Hatano pouted.  Then Hatano shoved the entire madeleine in his mouth, all at once and gave Yuuki a defiant look.

            “Go to bed,” Yuuki ordered him curtly, but without any actual anger in his voice.  “And brush your teeth.”

 

 

(Yuuki – Team How-Did-I-End-Up-Being-Responsible-For-All-These-Idiots-Again?)

 

(Was this chapter just an excuse for me to write more Grandpa Yuuki-san spending time with his grandson?  Yes it was.  I regret nothing!)

 


	9. Miyoshi

            The match began exactly as Miyoshi planned for it to go.  As he’d predicted, Fukumoto had picked Odagiri to be his partner at the table.  Tazaki sat behind Miyoshi to look at his cards, and Amari sat behind Jitsui.  And Hatano took up a position behind Fukumoto, and began signaling Miyoshi what Fukumoto’s hand was. 

            That was not unexpected either.  Miyoshi had come up with dozens of scenarios for what Hatano might be doing.  He’d predicted that he would sit behind Fukumoto, and knew it was likely that Hatano would start off signaling Fukumoto’s cards to him.  But Miyoshi did not make the mistake of thinking Hatano was actually on his side.  The betrayal would come.  Miyoshi was certain of that. 

            Sakuma did as he was instructed, and sat so he had a view of both Kaminaga’s and Tazaki’s cards, then signed to Jitsui.  And Jitsui, evil little thing though he was, lived up to Miyoshi’s expectations perfectly.  He even went above and beyond, as they learned when, only five minutes into the match, a horrible, animalistic noise rang out from above, and the sound of something being knocked over drifted down to reach their ears.

            “What is that?” asked Sakuma, looking around at each spy in turn, accusingly, knowing that one of them knew, and was responsible, for whatever that was.

            “Oh.  It’s just Yoru,” said Jitsui.  “He’s a very smart cat.”

            “He is,” said Hatano, looking at him warily now.  Yoru was more his cat than anyone else’s.  But he didn’t seem too worried, armed with the knowledge that Jitsui would never really hurt his pet.  “But why do you say that all of a sudden?”

            “Because he got out of the basket I trapped him in faster than I thought he would,” said Jitsui.

            “Why’d you put my cat in a basket?” Hatano asked.

            “So that he would launch a delayed attack on Frate,” said Jitsui, giving his angel smile.

            “What?” Amari demanded, standing immediately.

            “Oh, didn’t I mention?  I put the basket in Frate’s room.  It must have annoyed Yoru fiercely.  Watching Frate prance around the room, all cheerful and free, while he was stuck in a basket.  And he never liked Frate to begin with.  Oh?  Where are you going, Amari?” Jitsui asked, and if you didn’t know him, you would have thought he was genuinely bewildered.  Amari, of course, was halfway out the door by that point.  “Was it something I said?”

            Miyoshi chuckled and reached across the table to offer Jitsui a cigarette.  “Don’t mind him.  He probably just had to use the toilet.”

            “You guys . . .” Sakuma sounded exasperated.  Which was business as usual. 

            The game resumed, without Amari there to peek at Jitsui’s cards.  And with that obstacle removed, the game quickly swung in Miyoshi’s favor.  Well, Jitsui’s favor.  Since he had no one leaking his intel, and was getting signs from Sakuma for two people’s cards, and he and Miyoshi had worked out their own system to signal each other about their hands.  And since Jitsui was on Miyoshi’s team, that really meant the game was going Miyoshi’s way.  By the time Amari returned, cradling a trembling, terrified Frate in his arms, which would significantly impede on his ability to signal others, the damage done to Odagiri’s supply of chips had been significant, and to Kaminaga’s supply, irreparable.

            Without needing signals for the plan, Miyoshi and Jitsui both proceeded to crush Kaminaga.  Since he would remain in his seat, as the dealer, he was the logical one to beggar first.  When Odagiri was removed from the game, that would leave him free to assist in the signaling.  The only hang up was that Sakuma wasn’t quite on the same page as Miyoshi and Jitsui.  It seemed he had been signaling to Jitsui the highest hand held by either of his two marks, instead of both their hands.  He didn’t have enough understanding of the subtleties of Joker Game to realize that right now, Jitsui needed both their hands, which cost Miyoshi and Jitsui.  Not a lot, but enough to let Kaminaga hang on until Amari returned, and then for a little while after.  But the damage had been done, and eventually Kaminaga lost his last hand, and the rest of his chips. 

            The match continued.  Before long, it became the poker equivalent of a slugfest between Jitsui and Odagiri.  Both of them were the big targets for their opposition.  Jitsui played it safe, by quickly and deliberately losing the majority of his chips to Miyoshi, and Miyoshi did his best to back Jitsui up, taking as many from Odagiri as he could, but eventually Jitsui had to bow out.  When he did, he poured himself a drink and went to try to sit beside Hatano, obviously not trusting Hatano not to betray Miyoshi, even though Hatano had signaled every hand perfectly thus far.  But Hatano was having none of it.  He sprawled out his legs, keeping Jitsui from pulling up a chair beside him, taking up a remarkable amount of space for someone so short.  Then he locked eyes with Jitsui challengingly.

            There was a long moment where the two of them stared at each other.  And Miyoshi still hadn’t figured out exactly how the two of them worked together, because Jitsui was a sadist and had a control fetish, and Hatano was a cheeky little son of a bitch and not the kind of guy who submitted to anyone.  He half thought that they would be witness to some kind of blow up, right then and there, which would have been interesting, but against the Joker Game code, since the reason for Jitsui wanting to sit behind Fukumoto would have been way too obvious.  But to his surprise, Jitsui back down, with a very slight shrug of his slender shoulders.  He looked at Miyoshi as if to say, “I’ve done my part.  If you’re as good as you think you are, you can finish it from here.”  Then took a seat behind Odagiri, to help out in case Sakuma screwed up.

            Sakuma did just fine on his own, however, and Odagiri, already beggared from Jitsui’s and Miyoshi’s assault, quickly followed Jitsui out of the game, after losing the last of his chips to Miyoshi.

            At this point in the game, Miyoshi was ahead.  His pile of chips was significantly larger than Fukumoto’s, thanks to Jitsui’s help.  But from here the game was going to become more difficult, and had the possibility of stretching out to tedious lengths, because both Miyoshi and Fukumoto would know if his own hand would beat his only opponent’s hand.  Thus, they would both know whether or not they should raise, or rather they should fold.  And since Kaminaga was on Fukumoto’s side, and would be favoring Fukumoto with better cards, or Miyoshi with lousy ones, when he could manage it, the game began going downhill for Miyoshi.

            He put up the best fight that he could.  And Hatano’s signals remained accurate, which was worrisome in its own right.  But it he knew he couldn’t hold on forever.  Though he also knew he wouldn’t have to.  Fukumoto wasn’t the sort to beat a dying horse.  He’d want a decisive victory, not a long, drawn out whimper of one.  So Miyoshi had a pretty good idea of what was coming. 

            It happened two hands after Fukumoto had caught up to Miyoshi.  His pile of chips was just slightly bigger than Miyoshi’s.  A look at his cards, and the decision was made.  Miyoshi didn’t see it on his face.  Fukumoto’s poker face was damn near perfect.  But somehow he could just tell that Fukumoto had decided this was it.  Maybe from too subtle to really notice cues in his body language that Miyoshi’s subconscious had picked up on.  It was hard to say.  But he knew what Fukumoto was going to do before he did it.

            “All in,” said Fukumoto.  He pushed his stack of chips into the middle of the table.

            The decision had been made before Miyoshi even picked up the cards that had been dealt to him.  So made without full knowledge of Miyoshi’s hand.  Unless he’d worked something out with Kaminaga for this hand, and the signals he was getting from Tazaki didn’t matter. 

            The possibilities for how this could play out, all mapped themselves out in Miyoshi’s mind right there.

            Either Fukumoto had an excellent hand, a good hand, or a crap hand.  If it was the first one, he had something he believed Miyoshi couldn’t beat.  A royal flush, or a straight flush.  Possibly even four of a kind or a full house, but nothing lower than that.  A flush, and anything lower, was pretty much a bluff.  Because even on his best day, Kaminaga’s sleight of hand wasn’t good enough to sabotage Miyoshi horribly enough that he was 100 percent guaranteed to lose to a flush in the same hand he gave Fukumoto a sure-win hand.

            As he considered the possibilities, Miyoshi finally looked at his own cards.  His surprise stayed firmly hidden behind his poker face, but the sight of the full house in his hands made Miyoshi feel even more conflicted about his decision.  If he’d received a horrible hand, he would have folded.  No matter what was in either of their hands, Miyoshi always had the opportunity to fold.  He still had the option of folding, which was often a safe move to make when someone was reckless enough to go all in.  Only that would drag the game out longer.  Possibly a lot longer, and unless he found a way to end it quickly, it would end in defeat for Miyoshi.  Fukumoto knew this.  He knew how tempting it was for Miyoshi to call.

            Miyoshi looked to Hatano, then.  Thus far, every single hand, Hatano had signaled him correctly.  That, in itself, was extremely worrying.  Because Miyoshi didn’t trust Hatano much further than he could kick him. 

            Never one to worry about his poker face, when he didn’t need it, Hatano gave Miyoshi his very smuggest smirk.  Then he signaled Miyoshi to fold. 

            And that . . . Miyoshi hated to admit it, but he wasn’t sure what to make of that. 

            He knew that Hatano had interpreted Tazaki’s codes for Fukumoto, some time ago.  So Hatano knew what was in Miyoshi’s hand, as well as what was in Fukumoto’s.  After Odagiri was knocked out of the game, leaving them as the only two players still betting, Hatano had switched to just giving Miyoshi signs to fold and signs to play.  But right now, that wasn’t good enough for Miyoshi.  Not with the whole game on the line.  So he stared at Hatano, eyes locked on the younger spy’s much droopier ones.  Perhaps a little more intensity seeped into his eyes than he should have let seep into them, given that he was supposed to be wearing his poker face.  But by now, everyone who mattered knew what was in Miyoshi’s hand.  And Miyoshi needed more from Hatano before he decided whether to trust him or not.

            He knew Hatano knew what he wanted.  A more detailed signal, so he’d know Fukumoto’s hand.  But Hatano made him wait nearly half a minute before deigning to give it to him.  But finally, feigning boredom, he tapped his fingers on the tabletop.  And signaled that Fukumoto was holding a flush.

            Which was in contrast to his earlier signal, that Miyoshi should fold.  A full house beat a regular flush.  So why had Hatano told him to fold?  Had he been lying then?  Or was he lying now?

            Miyoshi felt like his head was spinning, trying to follow Hatano’s lines of reasoning.  Hatano was a little liar.  They were all liars, yes, but in a situation like this, Hatano was the one Miyoshi trusted the absolute least.  He made decisions based on what would afford him the most amusement, and played both sides for as long as he could.  The others were less fickle.  Not exactly stalwart and honest, with the exception of Sakuma, but the others were less likely to betray him on a whim.

            So had Hatano started off telling the truth, then decided to lie?  That seemed more likely than him lying, then switching to the truth.  Unless the point of that was to make Miyoshi second guess himself and fold on a hand which would have won the game for him.  Doing that would make Miyoshi lose all face.  More than just a long, drawn out defeat would.  So, in truth, that seemed right up Hatano’s alley . . .

            The safe move would be to fold.  But if the latter of his two theories about Hatano’s reasonings proved right, that defeat would be worse than if he lost it all now.  But Hatano knew that he’d think that.  Which was a strong motivator for Miyoshi to play this hand now, even if he lost it all here.  Of course Hatano knew that too . . .

            He glanced at Hatano again, and caught a glimpse of an expression that surprised him.  Confusion.  And he didn’t think that expression was feigned.  Like Hatano got the feeling there was more to Miyoshi’s hesitation that Miyoshi simply not trusting him.  Which meant there might be another piece of the puzzle that Miyoshi was missing.

            Then Miyoshi saw it.

            Tazaki.

            Miyoshi realized now, he should have thought of that sooner.  Tazaki had still signaled Fukumoto what Miyoshi’s hand was, even though Fukumoto had gone all in the moment he looked at his cards.  Changing his mind wasn’t an option, no matter what Miyoshi had in his hand.  There were no moves left for Fukumoto to make.  So why had Tazaki bothered . . . unless he knew his signals had been interpreted?

            Miyoshi knew he was right the moment he saw a sharpness enter Hatano’s eyes, which drilled straight past him, right at Tazaki.  And he realized, a bit ruefully, that he had been taking Tazaki too lightly.  He may not have been at the top of the class, but every man of D-Agency was more than a force to be reckoned with.

            “Call,” said Miyoshi, and pushed his pile of chips into the middle of the table to join Fukumoto’s.  Then he turned over his cards.  “Full house.”

            Still blank faced, Fukumoto did the same.  And Miyoshi’s heart dropped down into his stomach, as one Queen after another was turned over, until all four were revealed.  “Four of a kind.”

            Miyoshi gave a brief sigh, but kept his poker face in place, determined to lose with dignity.  “It’s your win, Fukumoto.”

            Fukumoto nodded, gracious in victory, his own poker face still on as well.  But unfortunately, their minions felt no such need to retain their composure.  Hatano immediately started cackling.  Kaminaga gave Miyoshi his smuggest smirk.  The look Jitsui gave Miyoshi was half-scornful and half sympathetic, as he poured a whiskey and slid it across the table to him.  Miyoshi appreciated the drink.  The scorn and sympathy, not so much.

            It was going to be a long night.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Notes: The next and final chapter of this fic is Fukumoto’s.  Should be up in a couple days. :)


	10. Fukumoto

            Miyoshi had been a fierce opponent.  Fukumoto could respect that.  But he wouldn’t admit just how much his strategy had left to chance.  Not to the others.  Fukumoto had learned many things from Yuuki, but one of the most important was how vital it was to keep up appearances.

            The others had their fun, ribbing Miyoshi, and jabbing at his ego.  They enjoyed taking him down a peg a little more than they should have, and their teasing had to be grating on Miyoshi’s nerves.  But it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

            Gradually, their mockery of their defacto leader died down.  Not out.  No, this would be brought up repeatedly for the next week, at least.  But their teasing came to a lull, and when it did, Miyoshi sought out Fukumoto to speak strategy.  Like any good strategist, he wanted to learn from his defeat.  He wanted to know where he went wrong.

            Fukumoto accepted the scotch that Miyoshi had brought over to help loosen his tongue, though he did raise an eyebrow slightly at Miyoshi hoping to convey, “Drawing from beginner’s spy tactics?  Really?”

            Miyoshi ignored him.  Good practice for the much more cutting insults he’d be getting all throughout the weeks.  “So,” he said instead.

            “So,” Fukumoto agreed.

            “Hatano,” Miyoshi stated.

            “A good place to start,” agreed Fukumoto again.

            “What did you really tell him to do?”

            It was no surprise Miyoshi had cut to the quick of it so fast.  He knew, better than most of them, that much of the game had been pre-decided.  The advantages.  The disadvantages.  Barring any unpredictable upsets, the game had always been destined to go down certain paths, with Miyoshi and Fukumoto as the final two players, and with Fukumoto having the advantage then, since the dealer was on his side.  If Fukumoto hadn’t gone for a decisive victory, the game would have dragged on, and on, with Miyoshi folding more often than playing, and/or losing more often than winning (to keep up with the appearance of it being a legit card game) with Fukumoto finally triumphing in the end.  But had he done that, it would have been a boring ending.  One that would have earned him no respect from the others.  No more than beating a dead horse would have.  It wasn’t just enough to win in D-Agency, if you wanted to impress your peers.  You had to win brilliantly, or flashily, or at least have some measure of flair.  And so Fukumoto had delivered.

            His strategy had been less complicated than everyone else probably thought.  Though admitting it to them would steal most of the magic of it.  But Fukumoto got the idea Miyoshi already knew.  And he didn’t mind letting Miyoshi in on the secret, since it would benefit Fukumoto himself, in the long run.  Miyoshi might be his boss one day.  The odds of it were very, very good.  So it benefitted Fukumoto more if Miyoshi learned a little something from this showdown.

            “I told him to signal you correctly,” said Fukumoto.  “Every single hand.  Including the last one.”

            “Did you specifically tell him ‘including the last one?’”

            “Yes.  But he brought it up.  He had the idea of signaling you correctly every hand but the last one, on his own.  I told him to signal you correctly for all of them.”

            Miyoshi pursed his lips.  “And your reasoning?” he asked, unknowingly echoing Hatano’s words, the day Fukumoto had given Hatano his instructions.

            “I told him it was because all you had to do was not trust him, and then I would win,” said Fukumoto.

            “But was that really the reason?” asked Miyoshi shrewdly.

            “Of course not.”  Fukumoto took his time in elaborating.  He fished out a cigarette.  Lit it.  Took a drag.  All the while, Miyoshi waited patiently for him to continue.  “He asked me if I trusted him to follow my instructions.  Or if I knew he wouldn’t.  I didn’t answer him.”

            “Because you didn’t trust him anymore than you expected me to,” said Miyoshi.

            “Of course not,” Fukumoto said again.  “Nor should I have.”

            “As evidenced by his actions,” said Miyoshi.  “But was there more to it than that?”

            Fukumoto smiled.  “Hatano is not good at following instructions, it’s true.  At least not outside of missions.  He’s dependable on an assignment, and always does his best to follow Yuuki-san’s instructions to the letter.  You’ve noticed?”

            “Yes.”

            “But like with our missions, poker and Joker Game, usually don’t go as planned.  You can never predict the oddball occurrences, or freak accidents, or what every random person is going to do.  I knew that there was only a very, very slim chance Hatano would do what I asked him to.  But I also factored into my calculations his genius when it comes to improvising.”

            “Ah.  I see,” said Miyoshi.  And from the look on his face, Fukumoto knew he was remembering the many times circumstances had forced Hatano to make decisions on the fly.  And how well Hatano tended to do in those situations.  The stories they’d heard from Hatano’s own mission in France, and on the way home proved that alone.  How he’d thwarted Nazis without any memory of who he really was.  And how, after he got his memories back, on the trip home, a Nazi informant had tried to entrap him, but ended up getting royally screwed over when Hatano pulled out all the stops to ruin his life.  “Yes.  I can see how leaving him to his own devices could work much better than forcing him to follow your own plan to the letter.  _Did_ work much better, in this case.”

            “I’ve answered your questions,” said Fukumoto.  “Now answer one of mine.  How exactly did he bait you into playing?”  That was still a mystery to Fukumoto, who had been unable to see whatever antics Hatano was enacting, from his seat behind Fukumoto’s back.

            For a moment, Miyoshi looked like he would refuse to answer, or enact some sort of price.  But then he thought better of it.  Denying the winner a few questions would have been bad sportsmanship.

            “He tricked me,” Miyoshi admitted.  “He signaled every hand perfectly, right up to the last one.  Only, after Odagiri was knocked out, he interpreted Tazaki’s signals, and started signaling me only whether to play or fold.  In hindsight, I should have realized he was preparing something then.  But after you went all in, he signaled me to fold.”

            “So he signaled you correctly,” said Fukumoto.  “But you didn’t trust him.”  He had seen that coming.

            “Naturally.  I wanted more information.  I waited for him to give it to me.  Finally, he signaled me that you were holding a flush.”

            “So he lied.  And . . . because the signals were mismatched . . . oh,” Fukumoto realized.  “You believed that Tazaki realized his signals were being interpreted, and gave me a false signal?”

            “Yes, said Miyoshi.  “Hatano wore the appropriate expressions to encourage this.  Confusion.  Then understanding.  He pretended to be working out the reasons for my hesitation, or confusion.”

            “So in the end . . . you decided to trust Hatano,” said Fukumoto.  Interesting . . .

            “A mistake I’ll surely not make again,” said Miyoshi dryly. 

            Fukumoto offered Miyoshi a cigarette, rather than rehashing what they both already knew.  That it wasn’t simply misplaced trust in Hatano that cost Miyoshi the game.  It was overthinking the issue, and not making a decision about Hatano’s motives fast enough.  And then it was having new information introduced, and being forced to make a fast decision without time to properly think over every detail he needed to. 

            But mostly, it was misplaced trust in Hatano.  And probably, more than a little, because Miyoshi had _wanted_ to trust Hatano, however much he knew he shouldn’t.  All things considered, Miyoshi liked Hatano.  Fukumoto knew they had grown closer since the Berlin incident, when all of D-Agency had gone to retrieve Miyoshi from what would have otherwise been a death sentence.  It had been a casual remark that _Hatano_ had made back in their training, that had ended up being what saved Miyoshi’s life, when he was on the brink of death.  And Hatano had been the one to take the plane back to Japan with Miyoshi and Yuuki.  So it had fallen to Hatano to nurse Miyoshi, using his medical training to keep Miyoshi alive, giving him antibiotic shots, cleaning his infected chest wound, stitching him up, and a variety of other things that Yuuki couldn’t manage well with his prosthetic hand.  And as far as Fukumoto knew, Hatano had done it all without complaining or ridiculing Miyoshi, or making him feel like he was a burden in any way, during his weak time.

            This was a lesson Fukumoto knew he needed to take to heart.  Because he liked Hatano too.  In a serious situation, he did believe Hatano could be depended on.  But when it came to trivial things that could cause damage to someone’s ego, Hatano could definitely not be trusted, and incorporating their youngest into his strategy had been a big risk.  He knew that the odds of Hatano wanting to take Miyoshi down were greater than the odds of wanting to take him down.  Because Miyoshi’s narcissistic ego being damaged made for much more fun than trying to get a rise out of someone as quiet as Fukumoto normally was.  But if Hatano had found a way to make defeating him more interesting than taking down Miyoshi, Fukumoto didn’t doubt he’d have been in the crosshairs.  Fukumoto made a mental note to keep in mind, that however much he liked Hatano, more often than not, he couldn’t really trust him.  But he supposed that was one of Hatano’s charms.

            After Miyoshi had taken a cigarette, Fukumoto started to take another for himself, and got a slight surprise.  Something was in the cigarette box that hadn’t been there before.  He pulled a King of Diamonds card out of the box, and felt a surge of warmth.  Miyoshi met his eyes when he looked his way, and gave a slight nod, as if to say again, “It’s your win.”

            “Thank you,” said Fukumoto, slipping the card into his pocket.

            “It was fun,” Miyoshi acknowledged.  “We’ll have to do this again sometime.”

            Fukumoto nodded, but knew, as Miyoshi knew, that this was the only Joker Game showdown between the two of them that would actually ever matter.  The only one they would all really remember.  He and Miyoshi would play Joker Game again.  But not like they had today.  They would never again be each other’s only opponent.  Most likely, the next time they were both at the table, the others would conspire against them to make another of their opponents the winner, to keep the two of them humble.  In fact, if Fukumoto had to guess, he’d say Kaminaga and Hatano would conspire with the others to make it so that Sakuma won that night.  And that was just the kind of thing the rest of them would go along with, just for kicks.  But even after that, when Miyoshi and Fukumoto played against each other, neither would ever have the backing of so many of the others, ever again.  This showdown had been a onetime thing.  Trying to recreate it would bore the others too much.  But it had been fun.  Very fun.  And so, though normally in a situation like this, Fukumoto would have stayed silent rather than make a fairly pointless, if polite remark, he told Miyoshi, “I enjoyed this too.”

            He caught the slight glint of surprise in Miyoshi’s eyes.  And he knew that the smile that crossed Miyoshi’s face after it was genuine.

            Fukumoto let his poker face slide back over his features, as he took a drag on his cigarette, and then just watched the other men as they enjoyed themselves.  It was rare that all of them were together like this.  And it was nice.  Very nice. 

            There were clearly no hard feelings between Hatano and Jitsui.  They were sitting next to each other, very close, shoulders touching as they leaned slightly into one another.  There might have been some hard feelings between Yoru and Jitsui, however.  The adopted stray was in Hatano’s lap, alternately glaring daggers at Jitsui and at Frate, who was cowering in Amari’s hold.  Amari was mostly oblivious to his dog’s terror as he chatted with Tazaki, all threats about cooking each other’s pets forgotten.  Odagiri was pouring another drink for himself, and for Sakuma.  Kaminaga was idly shuffling the cards, keeping half an eye on Miyoshi and Fukumoto, probably waiting for them to finish speaking, so he could return to teasing Miyoshi.

            Times like these . . . they made the world seem so much better.  The future so much brighter.  With the war escalating, and their country’s future so uncertain, and the rest of their country’s population sinking so much deeper into indoctrination and irrationality, it was hard not to worry.  Or wonder if they were really on the right side.  The winning side.  The information they were risking their lives to gather certainly wasn’t being put to good use.  Lately, it seemed like the only time their intel was able to make a difference was when Yuuki gave them the go-ahead to put it to use themselves.  Fukumoto could only wish that happened more.  D-Agency was clearly far superior than the Japanese military in terms of competency.  Even working solo, as Fukumoto had in Shanghai, they accomplished so much more.  And when they worked together, Fukumoto felt like there was nothing they couldn’t do. 

            Fukumoto let his poker face slip again, and smiled softly as he watched the men who had become brothers to him enjoying themselves in their favorite place in the world.

            He had no way of knowing that this was the last good time they would ever have together in the Greater East Asia Culture Society.

 


End file.
